Same dreams
by GwennielOfNargothrond
Summary: Long years had passed since the childhood of warfare and foolish dreams. Yet, Madara muses during one sparring session with his rival, some things never change. Oneshot.


_Hashirama & Madara._

_In truth, the Konoha founders are my otp, but that doesn't really get portrayed in this fic, so I hope the story can be enjoyed both by those who ship them romantically and those who just like to think of them as friends._

* * *

**Same dreams**

There existed only one man whom Uchiha Madara could truly respect, and that man was a Senju. It was ironic, maybe, that it would be a person from a clan that the Uchiha had for generations considered their enemy, but on the other hand, all ninja earn their respect on the battlefield, so it was perhaps not so strange. Besides, Madara had met the Senju already long before they had met on the battlefield.

The Senju's name was Hashirama, of course, and his name was well known in all the lands. He was the powerful Mokuton-user of the Senju. He was the driving force behind the newly founded village of Konohagakure in the Land of Fire. He was Madara's rival. It was funny, Madara thought, that no matter what that Senju would be to others, to Madara he would always be a rival.

"It's been long since last time we had a good fight," Hashirama said with a wide smile. "You know, with the village keeping us so busy that we won't have time for sparring..." He stretched his hand and took a stance. Madara huffed and took his position opposite of him, his Sharingan already activated and, just like Hashirama, he raised his hand to form his half of the Seal of Confrontation. Then, a split second later, both attacked at exact precision.

"_Mokuton - Daijurin no Jutsu_!"

"_Katon - Hōsenka no Jutsu_!"

And so they fought, anticipating each other's moves perfectly. No one else would have kept up with them, but they matched each other so well, and Madara was enjoying every second of it. Fighting was like dancing, he used to think. The fluent movements and the perfect sync... it was like dancing a dance of life and death. Except for that this, of course, was a mere sparring session between two comrades, and no matter how seriously they took their skills, in the end they ended the match with the Seal of Reconciliation.

Hashirama wiped his brow, grinning widely. "Well done, my friend," he said. "Your last move was very impressive!"

"I thought you would enjoy it," Madara replied calmly. Hashirama laughed merrily and reached his fingers to wrap around Madara's. They had reconciled. "Shall we take another match?" Madara asked. Hashirama looked thoughtful. "We might have time for one more, if you'd like," he said. "The fact that you still have enough chakra for another round proves that I didn't do my job well enough the first time," he added and laughed again.

Madara's lips twitched. It was as if Hashirama was always suddenly laughing... except when he was sulking, which could happen just as unexpectedly.

When they had been children and friends - and this was a period Madara usually chose not to think about - Hashirama had been just the same: quick to laugh, although slow to anger. He had been a naive boy full of dreams. Now he was a man, but he still had those old dreams of his. As a boy during that short summer that they had been friends, Madara had let himself believe that Hashirama was right and that his dreams could become true. As a man Madara had decided not to be deluded by a mere smile and a friendly laugh, but... deep down he still wanted to believe in Hashirama. That friendly laugh in that friendly face... that pure strength, both mental and physical... Madara had always thought of weakness as ugly and, conversely, strength as attractive. So surely it was no real wonder that he admired this Senju.

The second match ended the same way as the first, but they were used to tie games. "You are in good form today, Madara," the Senju said with a smile. Madara would have thought the same of Hashirama, but he said nothing because it was not in his habit to compliment people. Yet he did return the other shinobi's smile with a slight smirk. Again Hashirama's fingers pressed around his own. They lingered there just a moment too long, and Madara had time to meet the eyes of Hashirama. There was warmth in them. There was joy in them. There was pure kindness in them... kindness? Such sentimentality. Why did he come up with that word?

Their entwined fingers parted. Then, without a word, because words were not needed, both turned to return back.

They walked together through the village. Madara was going home and Hashirama, he supposed, was merely following him, because the Senju compound was in the other direction and Hashirama showed no signs of leaving. Instead he was humming some little tune of his, clearly in an excellent mood.

"What's made you so happy?" Madara asked at last in a voice that sounded a bit irritable.

Hashirama pouted at him. "I won't sing if you don't want me to," he said. "Though I do wonder if you really think you are a better singer than me."

Madara rolled his eyes. Hashirama, however, had spotted a familiar paper lantern hanging outside of one of the buildings lining the road - that of the local watering hole. Now he had taken Madara's hand and was telling him they should have an after-training drink.

"Stop pulling me, or I will have no choice but to stab you with a kunai and claim it was for self-defense."

"Come on, for old time's sake," Hashirama said, turning to look at Madara. "I just want to have a drink with my friend. Besides, Tobirama never wants to do drinking with me..."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, no, but I think it would be a nice idea to stop by and maybe get a snack."

Eventually, but not without one of Hashirama's random bouts of depression, Madara agreed to come "because someone needs to keep an eye on our hokage when he is drunk or else he will gamble away all our money". They ordered their drinks and their dishes and took a seat, Madara wondering how many would notice the two most powerful ninja of the country just sitting away drinking sake like some civilians.

A few hours later he no longer minded such thoughts. Hashirama was sitting by him, waving his chopstick in his face. "Do you... do you remember when we used to go skipping stones? We should do that again, Madara... I bet I could still beat you at it." He laughed to himself. "Though you were always a bit better at throwing shuriken, I'll give you that."

"Hn. I could beat you at skipping stones any day," Madara was grumbling. "If only I had a proper stone. I think your rock for a head would do just fine."

"You wound me!" And more laughter.

Madara usually chose not to think about his childhood. It applied not only for the part related to Hashirama, but also to the rest. His childhood had been a time of war that had killed three of his brothers as well as later his father and finally his last remaining brother. There was no reason for him to sit down and reminisce it, especially as he had never been the reminiscing type. But Hashirama had brought up the times the two of them had spent planning their new world order of peace. To Madara they came off as half-embarrassing memories of days when they were young but should have known better, but as Hashirama pointed out: "And look what we got now. Konohagakure. And it's basically what we always wanted, right?"

The same foolishness, the same innocence. The same stupidity, the same grinning face. Madara found his own lip twitching into a grin. The same joviality, the same honesty. The same dreams, the same warmth.

Yes, it was basically what he always wanted.


End file.
